MARY DOUL -- [turning on her, fiercely.] -- How would he be
bell-ringing with the saints of God and he wedded with myself?

MARTIN DOUL. It's the truth she's saying, and if bell-ringing is
a fine life, yet I'm thinking, maybe, it's better I am wedded
with the beautiful dark woman of Ballinatone.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [scornfully.] -- You're thinking that, God help
you; but it's little you know of her at all.

MARTIN DOUL. It's little surely, and I'm destroyed this day
waiting to look upon her face.

TIMMY -- [awkwardly.] -- It's well you know the way she is; for
the like of you do have great knowledge in the feeling of your
hands.

MARTIN DOUL -- [still feeling the cloak.] -- We do, maybe. Yet
it's little I know of faces, or of fine beautiful cloaks, for
it's few cloaks I've had my hand to, and few faces (plaintively);
for the young girls is mighty shy, Timmy the smith and it isn't
much they heed me, though they do be saying I'm a handsome man.

MARY DOUL -- [mockingly, with good humour.] -- Isn't it a queer
thing the voice he puts on him, when you hear him talking of the
skinny-looking girls, and he married with a woman he's heard
called the wonder of the western world?

TIMMY -- [pityingly.] -- The two of you will see a great wonder